Where the sun seldom rose like the south of Antarctic, the skeleton
mourned lacuna in its sombre hideout in apocalyptic dark.
When my Cimmerian soul conjured dreams of quaint springs
for the chaotic backyards of my mind.
And I ran amok amidst the wild shrubs in
the savanna, looking for birds of paradise till
you brushed past my rusty flesh like a holly wreath.
Till the quietest whispers of daybreak,
relentlessly across the nighted Pacific
let my demons fly with yours
defying gravity.
Forever I’ve lived
keeping a tranquil façade.
Witnessing with every rise and ebb
a turn of incidents, with shrewd eyes.
For I have in me the silence of millenniums.
The secrets, which disappear at the ground
still lay sleeping in my core.
The sky mooning over the earth
so close,yet so far. Eeyorish and sombre.
Pining for an unattainable love
since the inception of time.
Every monsoon its eyes get misty
by blue water drips.
Eyelids droop down heavy
with colonies of amorphous clouds.
Tears rain down, thundering gasps
downpour of suppressed mourns.
The ponds ripple, rivulets spill
trees dance in viridescent gala.
Birds cackle, minstrels’ exhilarating rhapsodies
environ the doleful aura.
In the funeral of the sky’s dead longings
earthlings revel in pluviophilia.
Where goes the compassion, the kindness multifold?
It’s perhaps the chilly gale which
renders them unsympathetic and cold.
Midnight Soprano 